


A Good Morning

by thegreatgayjatsby



Series: To Settle His Savage Side [4]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Anna is successfully training Simcoe to do nice things for people, Before Simcoe gets captured, Domesticity, Even though that person is mainly her, F/M, Fluff, Set within the first several episodes, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 03:31:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8605633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: Anna has a naughty dream about Simcoe and wakes up to find him cooking breakfast for them. It's all terribly bizarre, and she cannot find it within her to complain. Simcoe's domestication is coming along very well, she finds.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So here's some nsfw for ya'll, even if it isn't """"real"""" interaction

Anna vaguely understood that she was dreaming when the Simcoe before her came in immaculate dress but had a bloodied face and hands. He stood in the doorway to her room, carrying no weaponry on his person, a broad smile written on his lips. There was blood in his mouth. She wanted to kiss him.

The world took on an ethereal quality as she allowed her mind to take over this state of dreaming. If she were to remain steadfast in her refusal to betray Selah awake, she would permit the indulgence of this dream.

Anna wore a beautiful gown. Its color matched that of the drying gore on Simcoe. When he approached her, slowly, and raised a hand to grip at her elbow, the stains did not show any difference in tint against the fabric. Anna owned no such dress in real life, for it would have been much too expensive for her to purchase even had Selah still been supporting her.

The fabric was silken, the ribbons fine, and Anna felt all a queen and more. Simcoe’s fingers curled sweetly against her elbow, and she tilted her face up to him. His expression was nothing more than adoration, and although there was a splatter of blood that had rained upon his high cheeks, Anna was reminded of the way Selah looked at her as they wed. She swallowed tightly.

This was a dream, but in it, Simcoe was not drunk. She reached to place one hand on his cheek. The height difference between them was ridiculous, and it made her giggle. His smile brightened, and he stooped to kiss her on the cheek, chastely. What was a point to a salacious dream about the Captain if we were to act a gentleman even in her mind.

Anna frowned a little, and dream Simcoe raised his brows. “Captain,” She murmured, curling her fingers against his cheek. “Some women might take offense were a handsome man to not express his true feelings regarding her.”

Simcoe’s grip on her elbow traveled to cup her cheek, opposite of the one she held. “And are you some women, Ms. Strong?”

Anna made a face at him, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck, entwining her fingers in the feathery ginger hair there, and pulling him down to her level once more. “I am myself alone, but I am offended.”

Simcoe’s voice was lofty, but harder than usual when he responded. “And what might your offender do to repay this grievous attack?”

“One might consider your services to her a repayment of sorts.” Anna spoke confidently, pleased that dream Simcoe was going along with her plan.

The Captain inclined his head, and she moved to intercept him. Their lips slotted lazily together, and Anna gripped Simcoe tighter. Her free hand rested upon his chest, and he hummed softly into their kiss. This was too much like when he had been drunk. He was still being a gentleman.

“But you must make your services convincing, John.” His Christian name fell from her lips and seemed to topple him.

His shock-blue eyes widened minutely, and that honest smile she had become so fond of turned the corners of his lips up. “Very well, Anna. I shall see what I can do.”

Anna grinned as Simcoe’s bloodied hands fell to her waist, urging her to sit upon the bed. She did so, and found that her luscious gown had become a nightslip, remaining the same color. Anna scooted up to sit at the headboard, and Simcoe followed her, all the dog eager to please its master she had come to know him as.

Simcoe had a look of reverence written across his expression, and she glowed at the look he gave her as he knelt between her legs. Anna gathered the hem of her slip up with on hand, drawing it slowly up her thigh. Simcoe seemed to be experiencing the rapture. Anna spread her legs. Simcoe shifted his weight and dipped between her thighs, face-first, his tongue finding the seam of where her thigh joined her hip.

Her head hit the bed’s backboard, and her breath caught tight in her throat as Simcoe’s devilish tongue parted her folds and set to work. Anna hitched her legs up over his broad shoulders, eyes half-lidded as she watched his hands glide up her thighs. His tongue dragged deliciously between her legs, and she whined, hips rolling into his face.

The Captain, in response, promptly found her clit and began to suckle at it. Anna’s soft panting quickly rose into a shriek, her hands flying to grip the bedclothes. It took her a few moments, but as Simcoe pressed deeper with his tongue, she instead curled her hands in his ginger hair. Simcoe’s lips and tongue worked in earnest, focused solely on bringing her pleasure, and when Anna reached her climax, he brought her down from it with gentle passes of his tongue.

When Anna went lax under him, Simcoe drew back, looking entirely smug and satisfied. His chin was slick with her arousal and the blood that had been dribbled there. Her eyes met his, and, much to her disappointment, Anna suddenly found herself staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom.

Brutally reminded that she had had a dream, and the space between her legs was in fact, not occupied by one Captain Simcoe, Anna groaned quietly and pulled the blankets higher up over her shoulders. Damn him and his too-soft voice and his too-intense eyes and his too-handsome body. She wanted to send him away. Either that, or draw him to her bed.

And Selah had only been taken from her hardly a week prior. Anna worried a wound on the inside of her cheek as she reluctantly pulled herself from bed and dressed herself for the day, ignoring the lingering heat between her legs. She looked upon her wardrobe a little longer than usual, wishing she had such a gorgeous red gown to impress Simcoe by wearing.

His bloodlust was apparent. Perhaps the color would excite him, like a bull. Anna smirked at the thought as she ran a comb through her hair. Once it was done up in a careful bun, she headed from her room to face the day. She still had time for breakfast before going to open the tavern for the day. Perhaps she’d call Abigail to make something, or do it herself.

When she turned to the kitchen, though, to her surprise, the scent of hot food met her. Simcoe stood with his back to her, dressed properly sans his fine red officer’s coat and his dress wig. Both of which were resting on the same table she had found him drunken at only the other night. The Captain was cooking breakfast.

She blinked at him, eyes doey for a moment, and he turned, sensing her presence. His smile was unlike the one she’d imagined in her dream. “Ah, good morning, Ms. Strong!” He greeted, presenting to her a platter of toast and bacon and marmalade and fruit. “The eggs aren’t done yet, I’m afraid.”

Anna stepped forward to take his offered plate when he nodded at it insistently, only feeling a little better when she noticed it mirrored the one at his apparently chosen place at the table. It was where Selah sat to watch her cook, when she so felt the desire. Anna pushed that thought from her mind and dug in.

Simcoe added eggs to their breakfasts a moment later, than poured them both cups of tea. Anna was a little taken off-guard by how good the meal was. “If you don’t mind me asking, Captain, what’s the occasion? Abigail usually makes breakfast.”

The Captain swallowed down his mouthful and answered absentmindedly, “I thought not to bother her, with what the hour I rose at. I decided I might as well make it myself. It was not a problem.”

Anna nodded and tasted the tea. He had even gotten that exactly right. “I’m impressed, Captain.”

Simcoe paused very minutely, glowing at her praise before continuing to eat. “I’m pleased you find the meal to your liking.”

They finished eating together in relative silence, the Captain only speaking to ask her to pass the marmalade. The man seemed so domesticated that it threw her off guard. No matter, she took both their plates to the sink and rinsed them. Leaving them to be washed by Abigail, she turned to find Simcoe standing awkwardly, coat over one arm, pining his wig into place.

She watched for a moment, then stepped forward as his hands came down, apparently satisfied. He opened his mouth to inquire as she moved into his space, reaching up to tuck an errant lock of ginger hair under the wig. He gawked a little, flustered, and she smiled up at him. She felt a wife attending to her husband.

“Have a good day, Captain. Please feel free to come by the tavern for a drink after your work.” Anna was pleased to have the upper hand in the situation, inviting him by the tavern as a way to take control, knowing that he’d show up anyway.

“I believe I shall, madam.” He answered, donning his coat and making to belt his saber and pistol to his hips. “Do you require an escort this evening?”

“I would appreciate that very much, if it isn’t too much trouble, Captain.”

He stumbled over his words in his haste to get them out. “Not, no, not at all, Ms. Strong.”

“I’ll be seeing you later than, Captain.” She said lightly, casting him another smile before leaving the kitchen and then, the house.

The cool morning air freshened her, and she silently cheered her victory. Simcoe was coming along quite nicely, she decided. She wondered if the Major could see any change in his attack dog.


End file.
